


Birthday Breakfast

by WellDoneBeca



Series: Five is a Squad [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birthday Party, Don’t copy to another site, Fluff, Gen, Parent Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 00:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19896559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellDoneBeca/pseuds/WellDoneBeca
Summary: It’s the fourth birthday of the Stark-Squad, and after snooping around their father’s lab, all of the five want the very same thing as a gift: An Iron Man armour.





	Birthday Breakfast

“Daddy!” the screams broke through the once silent room while five pairs of bare feet ran to the bed, jumping right on top of Tony.

He had promised them something for their birthday. Shit, what had him promised them?

“Honey, your kids are jumping on me,” he groaned.

“If I remember correctly, it was your sperm in those Petri Dishes,” you said in a groggy voice. “And if I recall, no one has said the word ‘Mummy’.”

Tony sighed. Maybe you should change the squad’s sleep schedule. If they went to bed later they wouldn’t annoy him so early in the morning and he could sleep in, right?

“Daddy,” Alexandra grabbed his face, making him redirect his attention to her, her dark hair already touching his face with the proximity. “Come on. You said we could have a special breakfast today!”

Oh yes, special breakfast. _That_ was what he had promised.

“Alright,” he groaned, pushing the blanket off of over his body. “Let me at least brush my teeth. Chose what you want and I’ll order it from the coffee shop.”

The five kids cheered and Tony walked out to the bathroom you two shared, washing his face and fishing for his toothbrush while drying his face with his other hand.

“Are your teeth brushed?” he asked, stepping into the living room and eyed each of his kids.

“Yes. Miss Emilia did it,” Brienne affirmed, dangling her short legs on the couch.

“Good,” he walked to them. “Now, food. Randomiser. Damien?”

Neither you or Tony had any brothers or sisters, but he knew what it felt like to be the ignored kid and didn’t want any of the kids to ever feel like that, so he made sure to go out of his way to show no favouritism, which included even small things such as the order in which they asked him things.

“Cinnamon buns!” the boy jumped.

“Brie, my little knight,” he pointed.

“Pecan bacon!” she screamed.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Pecan bacon, what a wish.

“Alex?”

“I want a cherry Danish,” she said elegantly.

“Eddie?” he looked at his youngest.

“Monkey bread, please.”

Edwin was always the most polite among the kids.

Last, but not least, Tony pointed at Caleb.

“Waffles waffles waffles!” the boy sang one of those songs in the TV show Tony absolutely hated.

The father nodded in confirmation.

“You got that all, FRIDAY?” he asked the system.

“Yes, sir.”

“Add some Blueberry Buckle, croissants and waffle Monte Cristos, will you?” he requested. “And make sure we tip them well, it’s a big order right in the morning.”

The moment he sat down on the couch to wait, all five kids were on him, one girl on his left leg and one boy on the other, a girl sat on his shoulders and the other two kids glued to his arms like two little monkeys. Having the kids meant big changes in his lifestyle. Tony actually spent the night _sleeping_ now and didn’t spend as much time in his lab as he often did. He knew what it felt to grow up with a distant father, and he didn’t want his kids to live the experience.

He retrieved the food from one of the security people at his door, and almost flinched at the childish yells when the kids saw the big order, having to instruct them to wait at the dining table so he could serve them, and smiling at their curious and hungry eyes as he positioned the food at their reach.

“Alright,” he picked a croissant for himself. “Dig in.”

* * *

“Done,” Tony finished tying the laces of Brienne’s shoes. “Next.”

You were having a party, and with everyone due to arrive in just a few minutes you had to rush. The outside of your house had already turned into a sort of Funland for the guests and the squad, and the kids were yet to mention if they wanted any birthday gifts.

It wasn’t much of a surprise. You were already wealthy alone, having inherited your family’s investments and earning quite much in your field of work, and with Tony included your networks were quite big. However, you two were adamant on raising the kids away from the lifestyle that frequently transformed many people into materialistic jerks. The squad had toys, yes, but they had to earn anything they owned with good behaviour and small chores like cleaning their own messes and making their own beds.

“So,” you stopped in front of your kids. “You haven’t said what you want for your birthday.”

The five exchanged looks and you instantly knew they had had a private conversation about the subject, which was quite common in your household. They were quintuplets, after all, they were their first friends and each other’s best friends.

“We want superhero suits just like daddy.”

Your eyes widened and your jaw fell open.

“Excuse me, what?” you said without even thinking.

Your second daughter stood up with determination on her face. Our of the five Brienne was the one who often took the role of the leader, both bossing her sibling around and also protecting them.

“We want suits just like daddy,” she repeated. “Blue for Caleb, and purple and for me, and green for Damien, and blue for Edwin, and pink for Alex.”

“With flowers,” her sister added.

“And flowers for Alex and for me too.”

You didn’t answer. You were too shocked. Suits. They wanted _suits._

“Tony,” you turned to your boyfriend. “Tell me you remember to lock the door of your lab at night.”

When he bit his lip in hesitation, you almost groaned.

“Don’t lie.”

He scratched the back of his neck.

“Maybe not.”

The kids waited for an answer, all of the five staring at you with wide eyes and expectant eyes, and you rubbed a hand over your face.

“We’ll talk over that,” he informed them. “And then we will tell you the answer.”

Looked at her four siblings, then nodded to you two, as if this was some sort of negotiation.

“Okay.”

Tony smiled. They were growing fast. This year they were going to pre-school and were excited to meet new people; soon, they’d be off to real school, and maybe college in a blink of an eye. Dammit, last night they were still babies in incubators and now they were four.

“Hey,” you snapped him out of his almost-dreaming state.

Your boyfriend turned to you calmly, almost as if he hadn’t heard the most absurd thing you’d heard so far in his life as a parent.

“We are not giving them suits, Tony,” you reminded him in a strong voice.

“Not even _tiny_ suits?” he offered.

You shook your head and repeated yourself in the same tone.

“No suits.”

You’d definitely start checking if his lab was closed from now on.


End file.
